Some Wounds Never Heal - A RF4 Fanfic
by lallyo
Summary: Sometimes, physical pain isn't the only pain we have to endure. When tragedy strikes, how will Frey cope?


"Good morning, Princess."  
"Good morning, Clorica."

Frey was already awake by the time the sleepy butler made her way to her bedchamber, but she didn't mind much. Mornings were usually like this whenever Clorica was on duty, whereas Vishnal was always right on schedule. With a half-hearted nod, Clorica practically sleepwalked out of the room. In fact, Frey was surprised that she managed to exit the room without bumping into something, considering her eyes were pretty much closed.

With a contented sigh, Frey swung her legs over the side of her large bed and stretched before standing and making her way over to her wardrobe. As usual, she threw on a simple white tunic and shirt along with her well-worn tool belt. After pulling her long green hair up into two pigtails, Frey pulled on a pair of thick tights layered under an even thicker pair of socks before pulling on her wooly fur lined snow boots.

Before Frey headed out the door to the fields behind the castle, she stopped to look at the lovely spring scene out the window into the town square. It had snowed lightly overnight, but Volkanon and Vishnal had already shoveled the whole square; the old butler was now leading morning exercises in front of a group of groggy townspeople, and in the distance Frey could see Forte standing guard at the front gate. Frey couldn't see from here, but she knew the female knight well enough to know that she was probably stifling laughter at the sight of Volkanon's antics.

Frey spent the next couple of hours performing her usual morning routine: harvesting crops, feeding and brushing her monsters, and shipping her harvest before heading into town to pick up some more seeds and visit Blossom and Doug. The spring air soon became much warmer as the day went on and the green-haired princess found herself working up a sweat by noon, so much so that she couldn't help but stop at home and peel off the heavy tights she had been wearing and throw on her usual leather boots instead of her heavy snowboots.

As Frey headed out of the castle once more, fishing pole in hand and ready to go relax by Dragon Lake, she heard a familiar voice.

"Psst. Frey."

Frey turned around on her heel to face the mailbox sitting outside of her room and strode over to it, doing her best to look casual. She was speaking to an inanimate object, after all.

"What's up, Eliza?"  
"I got some mail for ya. Also, your reward is in here for shipping those pink turnips."

Frey reached into the mailbox, retrieving a few pieces of mail as well as a satchel of gold coins from Illuminata for completing her request. "Thanks, Eliza," Frey said with a smile as she opened the mail. Eliza prattled off some requests that were available, but Frey waved her hand in refusal as she opened a surreptitious-looking letter with no return address.

"Frey," it read, "It's been a while since you've had an exam at the clinic. I'd like to check on those wounds." At the bottom, in neat handwriting, the short letter was signed "Jones".

"Ah, shoot," Frey muttered under her breath. She had all but forgotten about her regular visits to the clinic. "See you tomorrow, Eliza," she called over her shoulder, to which a confused passerby stopped to watch and try to figure out why the princess was talking to a mailbox, and she headed off toward the clinic.

Jones would surely be annoyed by the time she got there, Frey thought to herself as she walked through town. She had promised ever since her last injury that she would stop in at least once a month for Jones to check her wounds, especially considering this last injury was pretty nasty. She had been fighting a fairy up in the autumn road, and had been hit pretty hard in the abdomen with a fire spell before her silver wolf could block it. She had been lucky that her wolf was there, though, because he had carried her all the way back to Selphia in her unconscious state, in the middle of a snow storm no less. Jones hadn't been able to entirely heal her; "Let this be a lesson to you," he had said. He had told her that her mobility on that side would be greatly inhibited for years to come, and that the scarring would likely never go away.

It wasn't her first scar, however. More often than not the princess would show up at the doctor's doorstep with some kind of injury from fighting or farming, and usually Jones would kindly tend to her wounds and send her on her way with a stern scolding about being more careful while Nancy would slip some extra medicine or salve into Frey's pockets. Needless to say, Frey owed a lot to Jones and Nancy.

Frey stood outside the clinic for a moment and smoothed down her tunic, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. The inside of the clinic was dim and smelled of salve, but it was cozy and inviting with Nancy's pleasant humming coming from upstairs. Jones sat in the back of the clinic, bent over a large tome as he scrawled on its yellowed pages. He looked up as Frey cleared her throat and adjusted his glasses. "Ah, Frey," he called across the room and stood, gesturing to one of the cots next to him. Frey set down her belongings near the door before going to sit, and the doctor pulled the curtain shut before he sat across from her. Without a word, Frey lifted up her tunic to show the doctor her wound. As per his orders, she hadn't been binding it anymore to let it get some air, but it was still red and swollen. Jones put on a pair of gloves before poking at the wound, and Frey winced as he did so. He looked up at her and nodded, lowering her shirt for her. "Have you been putting your salve on it?" he asked, throwing his gloves in the garbage and scratching his chin.

"Um... I ran out," Frey muttered, looking down at her dirty boots. Jones sighed and stood, walking to the medicine shelf. He pulled a few bottles of the antiseptic salve out, as well as a few bandages and a bottle of what appeared to be pills, and handed them to Frey. "Frey, I know you're busy, but you really need to keep an eye on that wound and come pick up more salve when you run out. Seriously, do you want it to get more infected and wind up needing emergency surgery?"

Frey gulped and shook her head, biting her lower lip. Just then, the curtain was pulled back ever so slightly as Nancy came in, a big smile on her face. Her smile faded when she saw Jones' stern look. "What's the matter?"

"Frey hasn't been tending to her wound. It's become infected."  
"Tsk, tsk. Come now, Frey!" Nancy sat down on the cot next to the green-haired princess and stroked her back. "What do you think will go through Arthur's mind when you're too sick to come visit him, hm?"

Frey's cheeks flushed red at Nancy's words, but the older woman just chuckled and plopped a little linen satchel of something that smelled sweet into Frey's lap. "I made some banana bread. I know you like it. Go on, now. Go enjoy the beautiful weather!" Nancy pulled Frey to her feet and kissed her on the forehead, barely giving Frey enough time to say thank-you or even pick up her fishing pole before ushering her out the door. Behind her, Frey could hear Nancy's giggles behind the closed door and could only imagine the sweet-nothings that Jones was whispering into his wife's ear to make Nancy giggle so. Frey couldn't help but smile, wondering if she would be like that with Arthur someday.

"Arthur?" Frey called into the prince's office that evening, stepping inside to see that the room was empty. It wasn't unlikely for the prince to be off on some excursion, but he had promised Frey that he would be home today for their date, considering he had been gone on a business mission for the past week. "Um... hel- ack!" Frey was cut off and let out a loud yelp as she was grabbed by her wrist and yanked off to the side, right into the warm embrace of none other than prince Arthur. Before she could say anything, he was pressing his lips to hers and running his fingers through her green hair, which she left down because she knew how much he loved to play with her hair.

When their lips were finally parted, Arthur enveloped Frey in a tight hug as she looked up at him with big eyes. "Did you miss me?" she murmured, smiling ever so slightly. Arthur merely chuckled and picked her up, twirling her around in a circle, but he promptly put her down when he noticed her wincing. "What's wrong? Hurt again?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. Frey shook her head. "No, it's... it's that old injury. I had to go see Jones today and he scolded me for not caring for it." With a sigh, Arthur gently smacked the top of Frey's head with his palm, but said no more.

"So, we could have dinner tonight, or if you want we could go out on the airship..." Arthur began, but Frey simply shook her head. "Do you think we could just stay in, actually? I really missed you. I just... really want to relax together," she said, and Arthur obliged with a smile.

They decided to buy some onigiri and a bottle of wine from Porcoline before heading upstairs to Arthur's room, where they sat at his little table and chatted about the various goings-on since he had been gone. Before they knew it, Frey and Arthur were both four glasses of wine in and were both quite tipsy.

"...so there I was, standing in my underwear having my measurements taken for a new outfit, when Volkanon walked in. And it's like he didn't even notice! He just prattled off a list of duties he needed me to fulfill for the day, and walked out like nothing ever happened!" Frey and Arthur were laid sprawled out on the bed, cheeks red partially from the alcohol and partially from laughing so hard. They had been talking now for what felt like only a few minutes, but in reality it was nearly one in the morning. "Ah, I guess I should go home," Frey mumbled drunkenly, attempting to stand, but Arthur simply pulled her back down to the bed.

"I would really rather you spend the night, Princess," Arthur murmured huskily into Frey's ear, to which Frey shuddered in anticipation. He nipped at her earlobe as his fingers trailed down her arm, leaving a line of goosebumps in their wake before he leaned over her and pressed his lips against hers. The kisses were slow and sweet, as though a thousand little butterflies were brushing their wings against her lips, and Frey couldn't help but kiss him back as her fingers curled through his blonde hair. With a soft moan, the prince leaned further into her until she could feel his hardness against her leg.

"Mm- Arthur," she whispered, pulling back and looking up at him with big green eyes. Suddenly, she felt far more sober than she had felt a few minutes ago. Arthur's cheeks flushed even more red as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, looking ashamed of himself. "I'm so sorry, Princess," he murmured, covering his face with his hands. "I suppose I got a little... ahead of myself." Frey shook her head and pulled his hands away from his face. "Arthur, don't be ashamed. I just... don't want our first time together to be under the influence of alcohol. And besides, this injury..."

Arthur nodded and stroked Frey's cheek. "Of course, my love. Would you like me to walk you home?" Frey stood and smoothed her tunic, shaking her head. "No, I think I should be alright. Besides, you've had a long journey. You should sleep." Arthur smiled at this and attempted to speak, but was far too tired and drunk to say much more than "Yes, love." With a soft sigh, Frey helped the prince out of his shoes and helped him into bed, taking care to take off his glasses and place them on his side table before tenderly kissing his forehead. "Goodnight, my love," she whispered, squeezing his hand, and smiled as she felt him squeeze back ever so slightly. And with that, Frey quietly left Arthur's room and closed the door, carefully making her way down the stairs in the dark and exiting through his office door.

Once outside, Frey stopped to breathe in the cool spring air and shuddered. She rubbed her shoulders for a moment, wishing that she had brought a coat, before heading off toward the castle.

"Evening."

Frey spun around at the sound of a low voice behind her, and was shocked to see Dylas emerge from the shadows.

"Oh, Dylas! What are you doing up at this hour?"  
"I could ask the same of you."

There was a brief silence before Frey said anything more. "I was just, uh, visiting Arthur." Dylas scoffed under his breath and folded his arms. "I know. You guys were really loud, all giggly in his room." Frey could feel her cheeks flush at his words, and suddenly felt very embarassed. Dylas had always been able to embarrass her since she had met him, so she often avoided talking to him for too long if she could. Before she could answer, he took off his jacket and held it out to her. "Here," he said, looking down at his feet. "It's a long walk back to the castle. You look cold." Frey gratefully took the jacket and put it around her shoulders; it was quite large on her, and reached down past her hips. "Thank you," she murmured, but Dylas disappeared back into the restaurant without saying anything else.

What an odd bird, she thought to herself, but was happy to have a jacket now nonetheless and began her trek back to the castle.

Frey awoke the next morning just like any other. She sat up in bed and swung her legs over the edge, stretched, then stood and pulled out her usual attire for the day. The green-haired princess was just about to take off her nightgown when distant yelling caught her attention.

"Princess! Princess!" Frey looked out the door to the fields to see Vishnal running toward the castle at a speed she had never seen him go before. "Princess!" He burst in the door and rested his hands on his knees, panting and sweating. "Vishnal?" Frey exclaimed. "What's wrong!"

"Princess... It's... It's Arthur."


End file.
